


אַחְלָ֫מָה

by deltachye



Category: Castlevania (TV), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Homely witch and familiars, Lesbian Character, Reader-Insert, Romance, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 22:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x sypha belnades, wlw]A misanthropist witch crosses paths with an ambitious Speaker. Perhaps some humans are better than cats after all.





	1. א

* * *

 

“I’m an outcast, a witch, and a hermit. I’ve few visitors that are human. So, what’s a damned girl doing standing in my house?”

The woman—a Speaker, you assumed, judging by her silks—blushed hard in the light of the evening sun. You hadn’t so much as said a ‘hello’, merely eyeing her warily. She was willowy and tanned, wild hair framing a round, intelligent face. Her blue eyes gleamed like gem stones as she inhaled deeply.

“I want to learn.”

“Learn what?” you snapped mockingly, “how to crochet a scarf, now?”

“Magic,” she said, more forcefully, unfazed by your unpleasant response. “I want to learn spell casting.”

You were not surprised to hear it. Many Speakers throughout the years had come wandering to you, following stories on the breeze. They all wanted to know what you knew: the art of alchemy, witchcraft, and magic. The forbidden arts.

Often times, you merely kicked them out.

You weren’t as great as they had envisioned you to be. You were no sage; no wise old witch with plenty to give; you were merely a woman who liked cats more than people. You told her this crossly, and she stared back.

“But… you are a renowned magician. Aren’t you?”

“I merely read,” you replied simply, sitting down heavily. Alastair, your fat orange tabby cat, climbed down from a nook in the attic and plopped down onto your lap. You continued, waving a hand, summoning a cup of tea. You ignored her stupefied expression as you floated the mug in the area, tugging off your boots. “Literature, and all that. There are no secrets to magic. There is nothing you can learn from me. If you think that I’ve got any time for another foolish girl, you can think again.” You looked at her, standing pathetically in your living room as the other animals of your hut nuzzled against her legs. Your familiars buzzed around her with warm energy. Seeing as they had taken an affinity to the strange Speaker girl, you sighed dejectedly and waved your hand, giving her a bit softer sort of farewell. “You may have some food and water, and then you ought to leave to your people.”

“Please. There must be something you can teach me. I’ll do anything!” Her head was bowed and she was on her knees, begging, before you could say anything. You were not so unkind that you would shatter her heart when she was still light with innocent ignorance. She could learn that cruelty from another master.

With another sigh, you scowled. Thaneus, the snake, curled around the girl’s arm and hissed content. It was nigh impossible to get respect from the old reptile, and you knew you were done in for.

“Anything?” you asked cryptically.

Sensing your defeat, she looked up eagerly, nodding. Your heart skipped in your chest as you watched her smile grow across her face.

“Anything,” she breathed. “Anything at all!”

“Then get outside and fetch me a pail full of myrrh and rosemary. Violets, too. I’m too tired to go myself.”

“Yes, my lady!” she said, and was already out the door. You cocked your head as you heard her footsteps recede into the distance. She didn’t seem much younger than you, but she was still so vibrant. Her sweet voice chirping ‘my lady’ rung in your ears.

Alastair mewled knowingly, butting his head into your breast for warmth. Thaneus’ mouth spread into a sharp fanged smile. They all were saying the same thing.

_You’re a romantic fool._

Perhaps. But it got lonely on a mountainside, and the company of a pretty girl did no woman any harm.


	2. ב

“My name is Sypha. Sypha Belnades.”

“My name is ‘I don’t care’.”

“Odd name,” she replied earnestly, “n-not that I mean any offense—”

“Quiet,” you snapped irritably. “That ought to be your first name.”

She seemed to have taken control of her confidence once noticing that you weren’t going to hurt her or send her away, though you had some regrets about the latter. As such, the girl spoke to you often. You expected to find yourself on the verge of a migraine, as always when around the company of other blasted humans, but she was softer. Unlike men, she had a pleasant and honeyed chime to her voice that had you listening to her meandering thoughts as if they were Holy Scripture. You probably would’ve liked to hear her read the dictionary front and back. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, but she was humoured. You could sense the expectant tone in her gaze as she helped you in washing the purple sage. You had half a mind to remain stubbornly quiet, but decided that you could at least deign to give her your name.

“You may call me [Name]. I don’t have a family name or a house anymore, so you needn’t worry about honouring that.”

“Were you excommunicated?” she asked. You couldn’t hear a shred of ill harm in her words. How strange for you, a study of the supernatural, to find an ordinary human that was entirely genuine. You hadn’t thought it to be possible for any one of these horrid beings to be so pure and kind.

“Something like that.” You shrugged, not very emotional about it. “I wasn’t really born up properly. Mum died, Pa left, so I was raised by wolves.” 

The expression on her face was a mix of horror and delight. It amused you greatly, and you even thought it to be as cute as the one on Alastair’s after a nap. You quickly stifled that. If you chose to be a master to her, you may as well straighten up your attitude to be a proper one. Who were you to fawn after young Speakers like this?

“I was kidding about that,” you revised hastily. “But my familiars—you can’t see them, but they are here—have helped me along the way.” Linnaeys, an average salamander, scampered up your shoulder and dug his claws into your skin with eager content. 

“Why can’t I see them?” She looked around, the profile of her face catching your eye as her long lashes fluttered. She turned to you. “Are they spirits?”

“Yes. Of the dead. They’re quite nice, though a bit too mischievous at times.” 

“I’d like to be able to see them. Some day. It would be a great comfort.” Sypha smiled at you, and for a moment, you thought that your heart had faltered in its job entirely. Your beats were fast and hot blood rushed to your face.

“Wash faster,” you barked, covering for your daze by snapping your fingers. The wooden pail slid across the floor to her, and she gasped as some of the river water splashed her.

“It amazes me every time to see your magic!” she exclaimed, peering down into the water. You could see the reflection of her face upon its surface—warped, yet, its beauty not marred.

“Did you think I was a fraud?” you replied testily, keeping an eye on her expression in the water. To your surprise, it softened into a fond smile.

“No, of course not.”

There was little talk after that. You retired, too afraid to peek out into the dark room at the other woman—for there was something far greater than magic inside of Sypha Belnades, and you weren’t sure if you were able to face its blinding brightness.


	3. ג

“Magic isn’t a study. It’s engrained. Whether or not you have the power to communicate with the Earth is out of my hands.”

She was out of breath as she stumbled behind you. The mountainside paths were needlessly cruel, winding and rough, but you had gotten used to them. Sypha seemed to be struggling, not that you would know, for she had not said anything. You could appreciate that strength in a woman, and knew that she would be able to handle herself.

“How will I know… if I am capable… or not?”

“We’ll see.” You stopped so abruptly that she took a further step, walking into you. She shuffled back with a hasty apology, but not before putting her arms around your waist to steady yourself. You were thankful that she’d walked into your behind, so that she could not see the hideous red that had blanketed your cheeks. You reminded yourself that Sypha was just another girl—but already, you were doubting yourself.

“You see the river down there?” you asked, getting over yourself. You pointed down. The stream rushed along noisily, white and grey with ancient rage. It was so powerful that you felt its cool mist on your skin, even from the many distances away.

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“I—what?” 

She had a right to be surprised. You felt a bit guilty for demanding so much of her, but swallowed that feeling. Sypha was capable. You already knew that. 

You held your hands up, making the holy sign for water. You nodded at her and she raised her own slowly, trying to mimic yours. You reached forwards to correct one of her fingers, straightening it. Her hands were warm against yours and you nearly flinched, losing your resolve as your touch lingered on hers.

“Have I got it right?” she asked quietly. You withdrew your hands like she’d burned you and inhaled sharply, praying to a God that you didn’t believe in to give you some damned _class_.

“Yes, you have. I want you to concentrate, now. Connect to the Earth. Feel its movements and pulsations. You are the Earth’s child. You must become Her. Feel Her power. Take it inside of you.”

You nudged her towards the Cliffside so that the both of you could stare down at the rushing water. She seemed too stiff, so you put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked at you, so you gave her a wry, reassuring smile. You hadn’t smiled in what seemed like forever, so you wondered if you would only frighten her more—but she nodded back at you.

“I just have to stop the river?” she asked.

“In whatever way you can.”

She looked down at the water. You kept your hand on her shoulder, trying to sense the energies inside of her. It was easy to probe her spirit when she was occupied elsewhere, and when you did, your fingers twitched. You laughed gently, almost scornfully, as you pulled your hand away. Warm light. She was definitely meant to be a magician.

You saw her hands shake with strain and moved your attention back to the river. Her eyes were closed. At first, not much seemed to be happening. Then you noticed a cool white ice sheet that hadn’t been there before.

Sypha cried out suddenly and pulled her hand up sharply. The ice followed like an ocean’s wave, crystallizing in a jagged, beautifully dangerous way. You stared as water rose against the wall, hungrily trying to get past. The river beds on either side flooded. 

“You did it!” you gasped, stunned that she had been able to accomplish what took you a month in a mere minute. She swooned and you rushed forwards, hugging her close to you as you felt her legs give out. Spell casting took a toll on the body, and you supposed that a sudden surge of magical energy like that would have drained her dangerously.

“I did…?”

“Yes. Sypha, you’re amazing!” You couldn’t help but gush in admiration childishly, your eyes gleaming with newfound energy that you seemed to have lost so long ago. She smiled up at you sleepily, her light eyelashes fluttering as she strained to keep her eyes open.

“I could say the same to my… teacher. [Name].” She smiled wanly.

“I did nothing,” you babbled, embarrassed and nervous that she saw you in such a high light. You shook your head, having forgotten yourself. “Nevermind. Just rest. You have done well.”

She reached up, her fingertips barely grazing your cheek. The smile spread to her eyes before she closed them.

“Thank you…”

She fell asleep soon after. You propped her weight up in your arms, brushing your long hair out of her face as it spilled over and out of your cloak. Curiously, you ran your hand through her own hair, marvelling at how soft it was. She had tucked a sprig of some flower behind her ear, the delicate purple petals no match to her own beauty. 

“You are a strange woman,” you breathed, sighing deeply. It would take her some time to wake up. You lifted her up in your arms gingerly, calling on your bear familiar to help carry her back to the house. But not before you delivered a chaste kiss to her crown, her scent lingering on the tip of your nose. 

She hadn’t fallen asleep at all. If you had paid closer attention, you might’ve noticed the smug grin on her face as you walked.


	4. ד

“You have to go back to your people.”

“What?”

She sat up slowly, taking the quilt to cover her bare body as she did. The morning air was always cold, raising gooseflesh on your arms as a draft lapped at your skin. She stared down at you incredulously, and you found that you couldn’t meet her bright gaze.

“Why do you keep saying this?” she asked, her tone pleading with an underlying note of resentment, “how much more do I have to prove my devotion to you?”

“It’s not that,” you sighed softly, unable to match her anger. That seemed to convey your seriousness to her and she shut up, watching silently. You lay still, running your finger along the bedsheet morosely. “I know that you love me. And… I love you too.”

“Then why this again? [Name], how long have I been living here with you?”

“Too long.” You sat up as well, shaking your head. “You are a Speaker. Your entire life revolves around family. Shared stories. Oral histories. Your people aren’t here. They can never _come_ or stay here with us. So, you have to go back.” You said this all as if it were very simple, even as your heart kept shattering with each pained syllable. You knew from the very beginning that this was going to happen someday, but you had kept tricking yourself into thinking that the time to say goodbye would never come. 

“I…” you heard her hesitation, and knew that she understood. She was smart. She had probably known this was coming and prolonged it, just as you had. You bowed your head. 

“I’m not saying that I’ll stop loving you, Sypha. You have my heart. And you are always welcome to visit me again.” You smiled as best as you could, looking up and finally holding her eyes with your own sorrowful gaze. “In fact, I demand it of you. A last wish from your master.”

“[Name]…” She threw her arms around you, her body trembling against yours. Her tears were wet and hot against your cool skin. You almost wished you had made her more resentful of you so that it’d be easier to leave. But this was the way it had to be.

Before she left, she gave you a kiss that you would never forget. Her taste seemed to linger on your lips, and you could’ve sworn that she’d conjured sparks. She hurriedly strung a leather necklace around you, a deep purple stone swinging as a pendant.

“Return it to me when we meet again,” she said sadly, doing her best to hide away her sorrow. You would always admire Sypha’s strength. You allowed her to fall against you, hugging her tightly—before letting go.

“It’s a promise.”

She waved to you up until the point where you couldn’t see her. Dorian, a bearded dragon, curled around your neck, miniature claws clamped around the leather string. The stone felt like it weighed heavily. The tears fell like heavy gemstones from your face, but the amethyst stone was warm against your heart.

You always kept your promises. Even after death.


	5. ה

The mountain path had changed considerably since Sypha had last been here. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten or neglected to visit; but the duties of being a Speaker always weighed heavily on her shoulders. You were always on her mind. The gift of magic was something she could never forget, even if she wanted to—which, she never would have.

The hike was difficult but easily defeated under the strength of Sypha’s determination. The hut was dilapidated and old, but looked just as she remembered. Unable to contain her excitement, she called out your name. No response. It was expected, for you were probably off foraging for herbs to make potions.

She entered the hut after knocking gingerly. It was empty. She expected it to look just the same as she had left it, but already, the air tasted different. Sour. Her eyes caught on the fireplace and a frown suddenly grew like a cold fog over her face. She walked over to it and plunged her hand into the ashes. Cold. You always kept the hearth warm.

She called your name more frantically. She looked through the messy desks, refusing to acknowledge that all the plants you kept looked to be dying. She looked for anything, anything—

Her hand grazed a familiar stone. She lifted up the necklace, the amethyst stone swinging languidly. Even with her strength, Sypha felt hot tears of disbelief well in her eyes. She sank to her knees, her knuckles stiff as she clutched the pendant. How had this happened? Had they burned you for witchcraft after all? Anger rose in the sea of sorrow like an angry spark, before she heard something odd. 

A cat’s meow. 

It was an annoyed, repetitive mewling, and she turned around. A thin black cat sat, cocking its head after she finally looked.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, losing her anger once she met eyes with the feline. “[Name] isn’t… here anymore.” She choked back tears, not having wanted to admit it out loud in case it might be true. Now that it was out in the air, it hit her with more destructive force and she crumpled, sobbing.

The cat mewled, sounding more annoyed. It heaved itself onto its legs and padded forwards, reaching out and batting the pendant with a claw. Sypha hurriedly clamped it to her chest.

“No, you mustn’t play with this! It’s very special to me!”

The cat mewled again. Even more annoyed. It sounded like you might. It butted its head against her leg, before leaping up onto her shoulders nimbly. Its whiskers tickled against the side of her neck, reminded her very much of your hair against her skin.

“[Name]?” she asked hesitantly and shakily, feeling stupid for even thinking this, “[Name], is that you?”

The cat nodded in a most humanoid fashion.

“I—what? How?! You haven’t _shape-shifted_ , have you?” But her questions meant little. She was only relieved. The cat—you—jumped off of her shoulder and padded over to a desk. You mewled, and she crossed the room, scrambling after you. There was an open book on the table. It was turned to a page in your familiar handwriting. _Familiars of the spirit world._

“You’re dead, then?” she deduced quietly. The pain of the thought hit her again, but you merely meowed casually, as if it were no big deal. That seemed just like you, to treat the Death Reaper as a mere inconvenience. She crouched and reached a hand out, to which you nuzzled affectionately. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she apologized, bowing her head. Your rough tongue darted out to lick the tip of her finger. She looked back at you, seeing you shake your tiny head.

“Well. I suppose that is what you would say if you could still speak.” Despite the lack of words, she felt as if she could understand you entirely. More so, even. She could feel your emotions intertwine with hers, melding softly with her thoughts. 

You jumped onto her knee and then back onto her shoulder, settling yourself. She stood and you curled up against her, your nose wet against her cheek.

“You can come with me, now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Another nod from the cat. You meowed again, yawning lazily. Sypha couldn’t help a defeated laugh. It seemed ridiculous. Her magical witch lover had died and turned into a ghost cat. Still, she felt your heart and soul. And still, she loved you hopelessly. Your own affection, felt deep in her heart through spirit, warmed her as she touched her finger to you. 

“Let’s go then. Together.”

You mewed your approval, with a tone of wry relief. You’d been waiting. She gently strung the amethyst pendant over your neck, laughing as you leant forwards to lick her chin. Maybe it was unconventional, but it never had been in the first place.

She was just happy to love you.

**Author's Note:**

> Read this elsewhere: https://goo.gl/Uh5LtV


End file.
